"Your magic was more active and volatile than most people's. And because you were at an age when it was growing rapidly, the Magic Stabilizer's effect of quickly replenishing depleted magic was too much for you. That was what caused the magical outburst."
"It's nothing serious. In the long run, it might even benefit you. Professor Snape will just have to go to the trouble of adjusting the Magic Stabilizer to suit your body."
Eliana recalled what Madam Pomfrey had said during her second stay in the Hospital Wing. Once again, she stood awkwardly beside the cauldron with her hands clasped, stealing a glance at Snape as he stirred its contents with a dark look on his face.
The scene felt strangely familiar.
"Professor Snape, thank you so much..." Eliana began meekly.
Snape gave a cold snort.
Eliana lowered her gaze. "You've gone to so much trouble for me. I don't know how to thank you..."
She laid on the flattery.
Snape's stirring hand paused. Without looking up, he cast a diagnostic spell on her, then ladled some potion into a bottle.
"Drink," he ordered.
Eliana hurried over to take it. The potion was scalding hot, but she didn't dare complain. She blew on the surface until it cooled and took a tiny sip.
She had never tasted a potion so vile. Spicy, bitter, and sour with the taste of rot, it rampaged through her mouth, scraped its way down her throat, then joined the acid in her stomach to churn and reign supreme.
By the time she finished the bottle, even her eyes seemed to sting with acid. Her soul felt ready to leave her body.
"How do you feel?"
Like I'm a little bit dead.
Eliana almost blurted it out, then realized Snape had asked. She quickly pinched herself and pulled herself together.
"My stomach feels warm, and the warmth is slowly spreading," she said, gesturing before edging closer with a flattering smile. "Your potion really works... You're the best teacher I've ever met, both in your expertise and in how much you care for your students. I'm so lucky to have met you at Hogwarts."
"Shut up."
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched sharply. Her flattery seemed to have sickened him.
But Eliana didn't think he was truly angry. She kept hovering close, grinning ingratiatingly and showing her little canine teeth.
Snape shot the shameless little suck-up a sidelong glance but didn't tell her to leave.
He added some gray-brown bark, followed by broken bits of oddly shaped animal limbs.
Eliana grimaced as she watched.
"Drink." He kept it brief.
Eliana gulped it down.
"How does it feel?"
"Professor, your mastery of potions is incredible. To think you could adjust a formula for someone else in so little time..." Eliana caught the look in Snape's eyes and slammed on the brakes. "It burns. The warmth has spread to my arms and legs, and I think I have a little more magic now."
More ingredients went into the cauldron.
Another bottle of potion went down.
"How does it feel?"
"Professor, I think you belong on the first page of the Potions Class textbook more than Arsenius Jigger does." After that bit of praise, Eliana smacked her lips. "It feels like the first magic-restoring potion I drank. My magic feels as though it's about to overflow."
Snape gave no indication of what he thought. He caught her chin with the empty potion bottle she handed back and narrowed his eyes as he examined her pupils.
More bits and pieces dropped into the cauldron. This time, Snape didn't even speak. He merely tapped the bottle with a knuckle.
Eliana gulped.
"Well?"
"Professor, you're—urk!"
Eliana didn't even make it through her usual round of flattery. Clutching the potion bottle, she crouched down in agony. It felt as though she had swallowed a rabbit covered in fermented excrement, and the rabbit had kicked its way from the tip of her tongue to her stomach.
How could anything in the world taste this wicked?
She gagged so hard she nearly retched up her throat.
Yet Snape showed no displeasure at her reaction to his potion. A faint trace of satisfaction even appeared on his cold, gloomy face, as though a scheme had gone exactly as planned.
He cast an advanced diagnostic spell, then extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron.
"Bottle the rest yourself. Come see me tomorrow after you've finished it."
"Huh?" It took Eliana a long moment to recover from the potion's assault. She shuddered. "It looks like there's enough for three or four bottles?"
"One bottle in the morning, one at noon, and one at night," Snape said lazily. "On account of Miss Ritchie's extraordinary magic."
He watched Eliana's thunderstruck expression with satisfaction, then added maliciously, "Before meals."
Eliana was on the verge of tears. Trembling, she made one last attempt to save herself. "B-before meals? But the taste..."
How was that any different from drinking a bottle of shit before eating?
Shit mixed with popping candy that bounced around on her tongue, no less.
She wasn't a picky eater, but wasn't this taking things a bit too far?!
"I imagine," Snape said with a nasty glint in his eye, "it might give our little genius pause before she next decides to play the hero."
Eliana nearly dropped dead right there in his office.
"Morning, Eliana." Ron sleepily grabbed a treacle tart from the table and jerked when it burned his fingers. "Don't often see you up at this hour."
"Are you still recovering? Do you need more rest?" Harry asked, looking worried.
Beside him, Hermione watched nervously. She looked ready to carry Eliana to class on her back the moment Eliana so much as breathed weakly.
Going through something together was one of the best ways to forge a friendship. If that something was dangerous enough to bring them face-to-face with death, opposed by almost everyone, and they succeeded anyway, the bond between them grew even faster. Taking down a Troll together met every one of those conditions.
But over the past two days, Eliana had drifted in and out of consciousness and gone back and forth between the Hospital Wing and the dungeons. The other three had spent more time together and grown closer.
Hermione seemed to think she had dragged Eliana into it. Seeing Eliana take medicine every day only convinced her that Eliana had been hurt while saving her, doubling her guilt. Now, whenever Eliana went down the stairs, she had to cling to the banister for fear Hermione would scoop her up and carry her down.
She wasn't that fragile.
"Bad morning." Eliana glared darkly at the little potion bottle in front of her, as though it were her mortal enemy.
"Why aren't you eating? The tarts are good today." Ron chewed away, his cheeks bulging.
"Thanks, Hermione. I can put jam on it myself." Eliana had been about to curse the damned potion, but she swallowed the words and forced a strained smile. "And I don't need you to cut my sausage. I can do it."
She drew two deep breaths, shut her eyes, steeled herself, and raised the potion bottle to her lips.
"Mmm, uh, urgh, gulp, augh."
Eliana buried her head against her chest, trembling all over, with the back of her head pressed against the table. Wrapped in her black Wizard robes, she looked like a tiny bat that had lost its mind, muttering meaningless sounds.
Ron jumped. Still holding his half-eaten tart, he lurched sideways and slid a long way down the bench.
"Are you mutating? I told you Snape would poison your potion! How could you drink it? He hates Gryffindor more than anything!" he cried in panic.
He was so worked up that he forgot to keep his voice down. His shout rang across the Gryffindor table and carried clearly to the others.
At the High Table, Snape coldly cut the meat on his plate. When he met Dumbledore's teasing gaze beside him, he looked away without expression, as though he had heard nothing.
In the sudden silence, Ron belatedly realized what he had done. His face went white.
He began trembling too. Without daring to look back, he tugged at Harry's clothes and forced the words through his teeth. "Was I... a bit loud just now? Is Snape up there?"
Harry answered with a grim look.
Before Ron could think of a way to fix it, a pale hand struggled up from beneath the table. Against the black robes, it looked like a bare bone emerging from dark mud.
Eliana, who had been huddled in a shadowy heap under the table, raised her head slightly. One dark eye showed through her fallen hair, fixing him with a sinister stare.
"Mom!"
Ron dropped back onto the bench.
Eliana still hadn't recovered from the potion's vicious attack, but her hand had already found a long baguette on the table.
Wham!
She brought it down on Ron's big head like she was playing whack-a-mole.
"Don't! Talk about! Professor Snape! Like that!"
Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!
"Professor Snape worked hard to brew my medicine! If I can't stomach it, that's my problem!"
Wham! Wham! Wham!
"The professor does not! Hate me! And definitely not 'more than anything'!"
Wham!
Ron felt as though she had beaten his brains smooth. Little birds seemed to be chirping and circling before his eyes.
"Chirp."
He was so dazed he had no idea what he was answering.
At the High Table, Dumbledore winked playfully at Snape. "Severus, I always said you were suited to teaching. Look how popular you're becoming with the students. They're so quick to defend you."
He looked pleased.
"I fail to see the 'they,'" Snape said coldly, raising his head. "As for Ritchie—after drinking so many of my potions for free, anyone with a shred of conscience or intelligence ought to defend the fool supplying them."
His black eyes fixed on Dumbledore. "Wouldn't you agree, Headmaster Dumbledore, who drinks tooth-strengthening potion like water?"
Dumbledore sheepishly looked away.
Before you continue